


Shiver into the Fire

by CMBaggs



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Crack Treated Seriously, During the Four Year Time Skip (Shingeki no Kyojin), F/M, Post-Return to Shiganshina Arc (Shingeki no Kyojin), Sexual Content, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:35:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28754466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMBaggs/pseuds/CMBaggs
Summary: In which the two worst people find some comfort in a cruel world.
Relationships: EreKuri, Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss & Ymir, Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Eren Yeager, erehisu - Relationship
Comments: 42
Kudos: 228





	1. trembling we share a kiss

**Author's Note:**

> To my readers who are patiently waiting for me to finish other work… I am sorry. Thank you for your patience. I will get back to that other project soon.
> 
> Shingeki no Kyojin has me by the throat and I needed to get something, anything, out on a page. So... have a fan theory!
> 
> I adore these two as individual characters and love their dynamic. The little breadcrumbs Isayama left reminds me so much of the whole R+L=J mystery in ASOIAF that I feel like it's clear as day, but in the end this is all just speculation. If I turn out to be dead wrong, ah well. No big deal. Here's my take on how it *might* have played out - without demonizing any ships or characters.

They knew now. They were not alone – were never alone.

There were greater, more advanced civilizations over the horizon. Paradis struck out tremulously hopeful, like children approaching their peers with a hope for friendship.

When Historia allowed herself to think about it; how her people were stripped of their freedom and forced in shackles crafted of simple, effective ignorance (on the whim of a single person gifted too much power) she felt sick. Helpless.

Servants drifted in, lighting candles, and setting out refreshments on a low table before the settee. The last light of day poured into the queen’s chambers; bathing all it touched in liquid gold. Larks trilled their last songs, and somewhere in the distance the queen heard the melancholic notes of a nightingale.

“Can we really blame them?” she asked her guest, hoping her brittle smile would be enough to fool him. Eren Jaeger sat with her. On the heels of another rebuked diplomatic endeavor. She faked a giggle. “How silly of me. Would I have wanted to forge trade deals with titans two years ago?”

“We didn’t know anything back then,” he allowed, leaving her little room to downplay her dashed hopes. He sipped at the freshly poured tea, unaffected by the heat. Another quirk of being a shifter, perhaps. Regenerating too fast to be inconvenienced by something as trivial as a first-degree burn.

“I just….” she sighed. Historia allowed the façade to fall. “I’m so frustrated,” she admitted.

“I know,” Eren replied.

“Why won’t they give us a chance?” she demanded, as if he had the power to change things. “It would be nice to deal honestly, without a mediator or any threats. Why won’t they just….” Historia shook her head. “We’re not some evil empire! Why can’t they see? We’re not… I just want us to have a chance.”

“You know why.”

“And Azumabito. Can we really trust that they have our best interest at heart?”

“We can’t,” he said without a thought. “I’ve made clear what I think about her third condition.”

“But… it’s our best chance,” she said. A precious ally when there were so very few to be found. “Isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” he said. Eren took another sip and Historia listlessly stirred her cup, dissolving the honey and trying not to lose hope. Then he said, “The titans were never the real monsters.”

She looked at him.

“When we were kids, there was a gang of boys always after Armin for being a ‘heretic’,” he recounted. “Bullies who should have known better. Armin wondered what was beyond the walls and that was all they needed.”

It struck a little too close and Historia set her cup down and hugged herself. She could still taste the foolish hope. How badly she had wanted to be accepted by those children, playing beyond her grandfather’s fence. To join in their games and be a little less alone for a while. But good kids from hard working families did not mix with bastards. They hurled stones and insults. The sharp bitter hurt of their rejection stung most. Historia tried not to cry, not wanting them to know that their approval mattered to her.

“He never fought them…” Eren continued, his voice soft with the warmth of a rare memory entirely his own. “But he never ran away, either.”

“Why?”

Eren shrugged. “Armin reasoned they admitted defeat by beating him instead of debating.”

“That sounds like him,” Historia said, and a soft, genuine smile followed.

“Yeah,” Eren said. He shifted his position then, leaning forward. Elbows braced on his knees; his teacup suspended in long fingers. “Always hoping for better. Problem is they didn’t care. They were stealing his food. His family couldn’t even send him out for a loaf of bread.”

“Oh.”

“So, this… them not wanting to hear what we have to say… it’s just more of the same. Stakes are higher. That’s all that’s changed.”

Historia sighed sadly and hugged herself a little tighter, her heart sick to know it.

“Never mattered if it was one or five,” Eren continued and she looked at him again. Found his dark brows furrowed and his mouth set in a grim, determined line and felt the promise lurking beneath his words. “I fought them. I’ll always fight them.”

“At least,” she hesitated. Set her hands primly in her lap and tried to summon a confident smile. “At least Paradis won’t have to fight. The threat of a Rumbling should be a strong enough deterrent.”

“Maybe,” Eren allowed. His voice tepid. His hand closed around her trembling fingertips. “I’ll exhaust all other options first.”

Historia had clasped hands as strong once. Skin as sun-kissed and warm as this hard, smooth hand. Slimmer.

What would Ymir think of all this? She had come from that empire across the sea. Had been willing to drag Historia there to ‘protect’ her. Historia could laugh now, at the sweet absurdity of Ymir’s desperation. Guarding Historia’s miserable life by handing her over to those who would have bred her like livestock. Ymir had changed her mind so suddenly. Why? That last, brief letter explained so little…

_Why did you abandon me? After all your talk about living for ourselves…? Can I have no one for myself_?

“Historia.”

The young queen lifted her eyes and found the shifter staring at her. She blinked away the tears that had formed and her cheeks grew warm under his scrutiny, embarrassed to be caught wallowing in self-pity. Eren sat quiet, watching her, eyes cool as morning fog.

She had him, didn’t she? The pretense of his dependency on her bloodline enough to win them some precious time alone. Eren never spoke of what he had seen in that vision at the ceremony. When he pressed his lips to her hand and unlocked a flood of memory so intense it changed him from an energetic youth to a brooding young man in an instant.

All at once, he leaned in. His lips met hers with a sudden shock, teeth clicking inelegantly. He smelled of vetiver, earthy warm and fresh. Alive and revitalizing like rain after an arid spell. His firm lips tasted of black tea and suddenly she accepted how parched and alone she felt and just as she began to fall into it, to open and begin taking from him, Eren pulled away. Historia’s teary eyes fluttered open and she found Eren staring down at her, his lower lip glistening. She let out a shaky breath.

“Eren,” she exhaled. “What…?”

He said nothing though his eyes were clouded with some profound emotion. It could not be easy for him. The weight of a kingdom’s safety on his shoulders. All this pressure to puzzle out what others had learned over years of intense training and guidance. Without a veil of ignorance to pierce. Sifting through memories, not his own, numerous as grains of sand… 

“Did… did _you_ see something more?”

Eren blinked and looked away a moment, colour flooding his cheeks. “No,” he confessed. He set the empty teacup down on the low table.

“Oh,” she breathed. Historia blushed and looked down at her fingers a moment, tangled within his larger hand, trying to gather her thoughts. “Then, why…?

“I just wanted to. To feel… something,” Eren tried to explain. He scratched just behind his ear. He cocked his head to the side, dark hair catching candlelight, gleaming lustrous. “Make a memory entirely my own again.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest like a caged bird. “Really?”

“I….trust you.” Eren looked her in the eyes now, searching intently. “Would you mind?” he asked. “If I did that again?”

“Oh!” Historia smiled, blinking away tears. “I… I’d like that.”

Eren gripped the collar of her creamy blouse and tugged her forward, closer until she could feel the warmth radiating between them. A little tentative this time. More mindful. Dark lashes and grey soft as moth wings, fluttering closed. Lips brushing hers. Historia closed her eyes and sighed, opening to him.

They were children when Shiganshina fell. Children, even, when they enlisted into the 104th. Managed to graduate in the top ten of their corps and got thrown into real combat at the tender age of fifteen before they even picked their regiment. 

Like with all else, be it swordplay, or Titan behavior, or ODM gear, they learned _this_ together.

Losing one’s virginity was not unlike flying at the end of a wire. The lightheaded, stomach flipping euphoria. Limbs awkward and inexperienced. Fingers numb. Heart hammering inside her chest like the frantic beat of unnerved wings.

Historia approached Eren’s body with nervous determination. Like climbing a tree for the first time to reach a ripe red apple. Understanding the crude mechanics of what she _wanted_ and uncertain of where to put her hands to better reach her prize.

What Eren lacked in finesse he made up for in sincerity. He kissed with an ardent edge, teeth grazing virgin skin. Hard, inexperienced hands roaming her body. A rush of discovery, so clumsy and passionate. The sudden stinging jolt and the fullness of him inside her. Over almost before they began.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Atop her, still sheathed. Quivering. So hot and heavy and panting. “I wanted… I needed… I didn’t mean…”

“Cut it out,” she said, satisfied simply in the sheer _closeness_ of him.

Eren shifted, placing his weight on his elbows, her head framed between his hands. He gazed down at her, his sea-gray eyes a storm of emotion beneath heavy lids. He looked lost. Overwhelmed. “Huh?”

“Stop whining and just….” Historia bit her lip and arched beneath him. Felt the length of him still so hard where she remained slick and wanting. With the slide of their skin his pretty eyes slipped closed on a shuddering sigh. “Just try again, Eren.”

Slowly, he opened his eyes. Stared at her, dazed and blinking, a moment more before swallowing and nodding dumbly. Eren buried his face in the crook of her neck and rolled his hips. Sliding to a sweet shock. A promise of ecstasy.

“Oh,” Historia sighed. He breathed deeply and continued. Moaning softly. Nice and steady. Each gentle thrust slicker, warmer than the last. Tension mounting to a tipping point. She twisted her fingers in his dark hair. “Yes, Eren,… Just. Oh. Just like that…”


	2. for now you are a part of me

Historia traced her fingers against the frosted glass, watching the delicate fractals softly melt away. The city aglow with golden gaslight and glittering snow beyond the panes. Below, people crowded the streets, drinking mulled wines and sweets and watching entertainers. Her birthday. A holiday now. Even nearly three years into her reign and it still seemed an odd thing.

“Your escort is here, your Majesty.”

Historia turned to Maria’s voice and saw Eren standing next to the maid. In his military issued olive-drab formal coat. He had grown taller, filled out, clothing straining in places that had her pulse rising. He regarded her coolly, and Historia’s warm smile faltered. Eren blinked then. Placed his fist over his heart and bent at the waist.

“Your Majesty.”

Historia schooled her emotions and gracefully extended her hand to him for the customary kiss. The warmth of his breath on her skin set her blood on fire.

“Eren Jaeger,” she said, trying to match his impassive tone and wondering how he could play so coy after so long apart. Had things changed for him in the weeks away, working with the scouts? Had someone replaced her in his heart? “Have you been well?”

“Commander Hange keeps me busy,” he replied. “And you, your Majesty? How have you been keeping?”

“Busy,” she said with a little smile. It was the truth. She wanted to say that she missed him. To draw him into a private corner, just the two of them, and hear every detail of what he had seen and how their friends were fairing. She wanted to kiss him.

But a pair of MPs flanked them, and things felt awkward and strange.

She sat at the center of the head table. The scouts seated away, beyond the council members and MPs and all through her dinner Historia consciously did not glance their way. By the fifth dance Eren still had not asked her and now she tried to find him. Spotted him still seated, talking to some MP. Midway through the ninth she saw him leave the ballroom. Historia waited on and on, until the song finally ended. Recused herself and escaped to follow out the door he went. Back through the east gallery with grand oil paintings of landscapes once thought lost to man. She cast her gaze into darkened, unused rooms and found her prize in a drawing room. The music a faraway thrumming now. Eren stood before one of the tall, frosted windows, staring out over the people still carousing in the city below. Tall and square-shouldered, framed by the moonlight.

“They’ll miss you,” he said. “You should get back.”

“Why are you out here?”

“I needed to get some air. Too stuffy in there.”

She closed the distance between them. Reached for him and gently tugged the felted sleeve of his green coat. “Eren?” His head turned toward her, just a little, dark hair long and still concealing his eyes. “Why haven’t you asked me to dance?”

“You think I didn’t want to?” he replied, fully looking at her and she saw. A trick of the light, a shimmer of tremulous, restrained emotion in those mercurial grey eyes.

“What else am I to think?”

He smiled sardonically. “You know what this is,” he said, his tone mirthless. Bordering, almost, on angry. He pointed his thumb back in the direction of the ballroom. “Why they’re making such a fuss in there.”

“I know it’s a bit ostentatious,” she tried. “But that doesn’t explain why you’re avoiding me like I have the plague.”

He looked back out the window. “Just staying out of the way.”

Historia frowned. “I… I don’t understand.”

Eren chuffed a little laugh. “Come on. Every grasping councilman turned out for the hunt. Not that I blame them.” He looked at her again. A slow searing sweep of his grey eyes that started from the top of her crown down to the sleeveless heart-shape of her corseted bust to the embroidered hem of the gown and back again. He settled on her eyes. “That’s quite a dress. You pick it out yourself?”

“Hey!” Blush seared her cheeks. He had noticed, but for entirely the wrong reasons and she wanted to smack him. “It’s not like that!”

“This isn’t about choosing a consort?”

“No!”

Eren snorted. “From where I was sitting every guy in there eyed you the way Sasha looks at a rasher of bacon.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Historia said primly. “ _Maybe_ you should have asked me to dance instead of coming out here to pout.”

“I’m not pouting,” he said, folding his arms across his chest, but even in the dim light she saw the heat bloom on his cheeks.

“You _are_ ,” Historia pressed, poking him. “Over nothing, might I add. And I _did_ pick this dress! Because I hoped _you_ would like it!”

“And why would you do a silly thing like that?”

“It occur to you, idiot, that maybe my mind is already made up?”

Oh, his eyes. His eyes… All at once the jealous vitriol seemed to bleed out of him only to be replaced by something mellow and pure. A smile pulled at one corner of his mouth and his brows lifted and his whole stance softened again. His embarrassment only deepened.

“I’m being a stupid brat…,” he began, voice low and sheepish. He chuckled uneasily as he scratched the back of his head. He sighed. “The truth is… I have no right behaving like this. Not when we both know I’ll be dead before twenty-four -”

“I don’t care!”

“ _I do_ ,” he pressed in a harsh whisper. He reached for her then, warm hands framing her face and he pulled her very close. Finally brought his lips to hers, giving her the longed-for kiss. They broke apart after a soft, languid embrace. Eren took a shuddering breath and pressed his forehead to hers.

“I’m running out of time.”

Historia opened her eyes then. Stared into Eren’s face, her hands flat against the lapels of his uniform, felt his breathing beneath the layers of fabric. “So?”

“If the military knew how much I treasured you….” He trailed off, staring at her. His thumb drawing slow lines on her cheek for a long moment. “They’d tell me to set aside my feelings or write off my opinion entirely. Do you understand?”

Historia swallowed the lump in her throat and shook her head. She did not want to think about the politics or the end of his term. She shifted in his grasp just enough to slide her fingers into the hair feathering at the nape of his neck and pulled him down. Kissed him again. Deeper, more demanding. She coaxed his lips to part and turned their resignation to something torrid. Eren drew her tighter, closer. Felt him, hard against her, and it lit an ember in the pit of her stomach.

A shaky, poignant sigh escaped him. “Historia…”

“Why does he do this?” they heard Mikasa say and they quickly receded deeper into shadow and stilled. Holding their breath. Footsteps drew closer, louder. “Always going off alone without a word? He should know better.”

“Don’t worry so much,” Armin said. Eren and Historia saw them, in the light of the doorway, looking into the drawing room, oblivious of the couple secreted in dark. Their shadows stretching long across the creamy polished floor. “He’s not going to get kidnapped or assassinated in the dead of winter. The bay is nearly impassable, and Marley is still caught in a war.”

Their shadows slipped away and as their voices and steps receded, Eren sighed irritably. “I want you to be free to live your life,” he decided. “Without having to worry about any of this.”

She would allow Eren his secrecy so long as she could see him, be with him in that secrecy. Let the world see her as a capricious virgin queen in need of a consort. “Come to me, tonight. Please?”

He smiled softly. Nodded. “Yeah.”

Historia grinned. Kissed him once more and brushed her nose against his. “We’re lucky the false king was such a pervert.”

* * *

She found him crouched before the hearth in her chambers, stoking the flames. His formal coat draped over the arm of the settee. White shirtsleeves rolled to the elbows.

A man who kept his vows.

“Eren.”

Slowly he stood, turned to face her. Stared at her for what felt like an age. She could see nothing of his expression, only the silhouette of his body before the fire.

“Your Majesty,” he finally said.

She laughed lightly at the ridiculous propriety and shook her head. “Please don’t talk like that. Not when it’s finally just the two of us.”

“Historia,” he said, in quite a different tone. Voice low and warm with promise. He opened his arms, and Historia picked up the heavy white brocade of her skirts and rushed to him.

“This dress really is something,” he said. He clasped her hand, spinning her into a twirl to get a better look at the sleeveless, corseted affair. The fabric flared out, silvery embroidered feathers catching the firelight. Historia giggled.

“You like it?”

“Yeah,” he said, and the spinning stopped. He had an arm round her waist, drew her in until she was flush against him. Eren stared down at her, eyes so bright and adoring. “You sure like white,” he remarked.

Historia blushed but did not look away. They had grown through so much and she could not help but smile up at him, brazenly. “Maybe I was hoping it would inspire a question.”

Though Eren tried to hold his emotions close, his eyes hid nothing. His hand curled around the back of her neck. Holding her still, he stared into her eyes and Historia could see. Understood his anxiety and the depth of his devotion. Her ally in all things. She did not know what to say, what sweet words might sooth him. How do you comfort someone so burdened?

Eren traced his thumb over her lips in a strange, sensuous caress before bending to her. Now he kissed her in earnest. Passionate, carnal… He eased her lips apart beneath his own with a serous sigh.

He had learned, over months of furtive coupling what notes to play. Applied himself same as he had in training to know her like his life depended on it. With one hand tangled in the laces of her gown, he petted her, drawing his fingertips along her skin. When the rich silk dropped in a heavy sigh, leaving her exposed and he pulled her close, kept her warm. Hard hands molding to her, exerting perfect pressure. Her head rolled back as he worked his way down her throat and when his lips and teeth grazed the soft curves of her breast she whimpered.

“Eren. The bed. Please.”

He swept her up, bridal style and laid her out on the duvet. Drank in her form as if he had never seen her naked before and descended on her like a man starved. Fervent, eager. Sliding down her body, leaving searing kisses in his wake. Lapping up her liquid heat like some delicacy.

When she could take no more, when her fingers tightened in his hair, and she arched, her hips rising to find him, he understood. Covered and filled her and took all she wanted to give. Calves draped over the curve of his backside, nails dragging his back to hold him fast. Spur him harder. Eren found that pace – steady. Determined, as in all things and holding out for her. Only when warm, slick tension reached the snapping point and suddenly unfurled, toes curling and choking on his name, only then did he tumble after her.

Calm followed. Warm-hearted and breathless. Eren draped her over him like a blanket and held her tight.

There. In that relaxed intimacy he kept the evening long. Held her close. Drew long fingers along the soft trench of her spine, all the lines of her body and daring the world to try taking her. Eren spoke low and gentle and she listened, his steady heart beating a percussion. He recounted the current doings of her old corp. Armin’s crystal gazing and Jean’s dogged determination to get Mikasa to notice him. Connie visiting his mother and hoping. Told her about the work on the railroad that summer. His disgust with a treaty that tethered them to a sin, a role, none of them wanted. How he had missed her, thought about her, worried for her….

“I meant it, Eren,” she said, tracing her fingers over the firm swell of his chest.

“Hm?”

“What I said earlier. About choosing you.”

A pause. “Historia….”

She wriggled, loosening his grip enough to prop herself on top of him. “Just… stop it. I don’t care about your term limit or what anyone has to say. I _love_ you.”

“I…,” he began, stroking her hair with reverent tenderness. He shook his head sadly. “I won’t risk you.”

“Would it be so bad?”

“Your council will blow a gasket,” he reasoned, and Historia bit her lip, unable to refute the point. “Hell, even without this, the military might be tempted to end my term if I fight them too much. Why give them another reason to find someone more compliant? I can’t risk that. Not until I know you’re safe.”

“Then… we keep this secret,” she tried, blinking rapid to fight the threatening tears. “Until you find your solution.”

“And if we can’t find one?”

She traced the outline of his face, brushing the dark strands away from his forehead. She swallowed away the tightness in her throat. “We have done _everything_ they’ve ever asked of us, Eren,” she said and when he did not argue that point, she leaned in, sliding against him and pressed her lips to his in another slow caress. He groaned softly in the back of his throat. “Even if it’s just in secret – at least we can have each other. Right?”

He let out a breath, some strange cross between a chuff and a sigh. “Okay,” he said. Finally relenting.

She settled again, tucking her head beneath his chin and his arms tightened. So warm and secure. Felt the soothing pull of his fingers in her hair, loosening her plaits. She was on the edge of sleep when Eren sighed again, whispering against her hair.

“I love someone inside the walls.”


	3. i will defend and honor thee

“There’s no need to fight or run,” Historia replied gently.

They stood along the fence line, respectfully distanced from one another. Anyone looking would see the queen with her most trusted soldier. Together, she and Eren watched the children playing in the last light of day. The sun sank below the stone and timber stables and the orphanage, casting long shadows.

She could pretend it a perfect moment. If not for the news that had brought him here in such whirlwind, horse lathered in sweat.

“If this is the most reliable way to make sure this island lives on then I’ll go along with it,” she tried. She cast her gaze Eren’s way and smiled, trying to summon courage with it. “There was no other way. But… you defended me back then. Everyone acted for my sake. That’s enough for me.”

Historia looked back to the setting sun, the sky a riot of gold and magenta. Bright and cheerful and a promise of the morning to follow. She tried to will away the lump forming in her throat. Why had it come to this?

_He’s done all he could possibly have done. They all have. What good will it do, to show fear now?_

“Maybe for you,” Eren said. “But not for me.”

Historia looked at him and found his gaze still locked on the children playing in the fields and the blazing sky beyond. “What?”

“Zeke,” he said. “He and I have reached an… understanding of sorts.”

“Your half-brother?” Historia asked. She gripped her shawl, tightening the fabric around her shoulders. “But… I thought he still needed me to… to…?”

Eren looked at her a moment. The wind stirred his hair, the air growing cooler with the darkening sky. “He thinks the world would be a better place if Titans weren’t in it – if _Eldians_ weren’t in it. He wants Paradis, Eldians everywhere, to die out. By sterilizing all of us.”

Historia swallowed. “But –”

“Except for you, of course,” Eren shared bitterly. “We still need the threat of the Rumbling so we can die out peacefully.” He made a disgusted tsking sound. “It’s complete shit. So, I’m going to play along. Tell him all the bullshit things he wants to hear. And then I’ll move forward with my own plan.”

Historia blinked. “Which is?”

“The full Rumbling.”

Historia stared at him, dumbfounded, unable to believe he could propose so _terrible_ a thing. The destruction of hundreds of millions of innocent people… No… he had been their hope. He could not possibly… “I… I don’t understand.”

“We won’t need to sacrifice anyone else if I bring ruin to the world,” he explained. “Who would be left to threaten us then?”

“That’s wrong!” Historia bleated. The _right_ thing to say to something so _horrible_. She reached out to shake him, but she hesitated. “Most of them are like your mother!” she tried. “They’re just people killed one day with no idea why it’s happening!”

Pale grey eyes swept to her. They looked strangely gold in the light.

“I know,” Eren said sadly, and she saw the shadow of regret in his eyes. “But… the only way to put an end to this cycle of revenge and hate is to remove that history from this world and bury it. Civilization and all.

“They want you to give birth to a child whose _only_ purpose in life is to become a sacrifice for this island,” he continued. “They want to keep forcing parent and child to eat one another.”

“I….” Historia blinked. Words continued to fail her. A strange warmth washed through her chest; a relief so profound it shamed her and her vision blurred hot with unshed tears. Krista would throw herself, her children too, on the pyre. For the lives of millions. Was this not her duty?

“I won’t let them, _”_ he said.

“Eren,” she finally breathed. She _should_ try to dissuade him, shouldn’t she? It was what a _good_ queen, a _worthy_ queen, _should_ do. She could see it in his eyes. How very willing he was to fight. Her one-man army… Her voice trembled as she spoke. “If I don’t do everything in my power to stop you, I’ll never be able to hold my head high again.”

“If it’s too much for you to endure, I’ll manipulate your memories with the Founding Titan’s power,” he offered, and she recognized it for mercy. “If you can just stay quiet until then.”

“How could I?” Historia cried wretchedly. The price was too high. Much too high for her to accept and it made her stomach churn.

“ _You can_ ,” Eren pressed. His hands flexed, an echo of her own desire to be held. He leaned forward and more softly, more intimately, he added, “Because… you’re the girl who saved me that day. You’re the worst girl in the world.”

Historia stared up into his dear face, into those bright, intense eyes. Eren… Always accepting her as she was, never recoiling, regardless of all her imperfections. That balmy sense of relief only settled more firmly. Girding her as surly as if he put his arms round her. Her protests withered in her throat. He was ready to become the monster they always pushed him to be, metamorphosis near complete. And she…

“What will this entail?” she asked.

He looked away. “Do you really want to know?” His lips turned up in a sad little smile. “Plausible deniability and all that?”

She bit her lip and nodded firmly. “I am your ally, Eren. I… I won’t let you do this alone.”

He drew a breath and she saw the relief wash over him and soften his eyes. “We leave soon, for Marley, and… I don’t know when I’ll be back. There are things I still need to see. A chance, maybe, to find another way.”

“Really?”

He shrugged. Hoping one thing while clearly believing another. “Dunno. _Maybe_. I… see what happens but I’m not entirely sure how we get there. Yet.”

“And the Survey Corps? Mikasa and Armin? Does anyone else know what you’re planning?”

“Just Floch,” Eren said. “He understands this needs to be done.”

“Eren…”

“I know,” he said. “I won’t act until I’m certain.”

Historia swallowed again. Allowed herself a moment to see the implications, the risks. Treason. Insubordination. Death in combat or termination in custody all possible consequences for his actions. Her heart felt heavy. How many times had she tried to love? Her mother. Her sister. Ymir… Unrequited or denied and all dead before their time. Promises broken and abandoned. All save Eren. He put his heart into this. He would leave her too. Sooner or later.

But not by choice.

“Well. Eren…” she said. “What would you think… about me having a child?”

Eren blinked, his mouth dropping open and his carefully constructed stoicism slipping with it. “Huh?”

“I want a child,” she clarified. “Conceived and born for its own sake.”

“You do?” he stammered.

She nodded and stepped closer to him. “Don’t you?”

“ _Me_?”

A little laugh bubbled out of her. “Of course! Who else, Eren?”

“I… but…” His whole face darkened with warmth. “I shouldn’t!”

“Why not?”

“Would it be fair to you?” he asked, eyes gleaming in the fading light. “To leave you like _that_? You’re only 18. Wouldn’t you rather… I dunno. Wait? When this is over you’ll still have plenty of time to-”

Find someone else. Start over. She could not miss the implication just lurking beneath his words.

“Wait for what, Eren?” she pressed. She bit her lip against the renewed sting in her eyes. _Give me something to remember you by,_ she wanted to shout. _Someone to love when you’re gone. Someone to fill the void you’re going to leave behind._ “We’re running out of time!”

He looked stricken, swallowing any other argument he may have been preparing.

“Eren.” She took one final step, bringing her close enough feel the warmth of him, the familiar, dear scent of his skin. “I thought you liked stupidly honest?”

“It’s the thing I love most about you.”

“I know I’m being selfish,” she confessed, blushing. Historia laid her hands against his chest, so firm beneath the rough spun tunic and she hoped he simply understood. She smiled up at him. Her voice cracked under her plain confession. “I really am the worst girl in the world!”

Eren laughed, running his hand through his hair. His eyes shimmering, clearly bemused and off-balance. He shook his head. “You really are!”

She laughed with him, even as the tears slipped down her cheeks.

“I’ve been testing it, you know?” Eren scratched the back of his head, in that nervous, boyish way. “Trying to change things. See if I can make a different choice and alter stuff I think I’ve seen before…” he sniffed. “But… I think this leads to one of the things I _want_ to see.”

“And?”

“I….” He swallowed. Shook his head. “This isn’t something I want to gamble with.”

She smiled through her tears. “I hope that means yes.”

A shy little smile teased at the corner of Eren’s lips. Such a rare and beautiful thing now. “You’re sure,” he asked again. Watching her carefully.

She nodded and, in a rare moment of abandon, he drew her in. Tipped her chin upward even as he bent to her, prying eyes be damned. Licked the salt off her cheeks with tender, open-mouthed kisses before finding the plush of her lips.

“You’ll live,” he whispered, lips dragging against her own. Kissed her again. Speaking on little sips of air. “I won’t stop fighting. Until all our enemies are dead. I won’t stop.”

A strange mix of emotions flooded her veins. Desire and shame and relief so intertwined and the whole world about to pay the price for her safety and some soft sound between a moan and a sob passed her lips.

_Is this why you let go, Ymir? Did you know, somehow, just how far he’d go?_

They parted ways then. She to her quarters and he to tend his horse. The queen dismissed her staff. Sent her loyal servants scattering like rats. They could not report what they did not see.

He came to her in the dark, by the glow of lantern light and she let him in without a word.

They went upstairs. Undressed one another in a comfortable certainty, savoring even the simple slide of fabric across skin. Eren laid her out, draping her legs around his hips. Eased his cock inside her, eyes locked all the while. Fingers laced and bodies pressed close, they shared something profound and sacred. The consummation of this clandestine pact. He would be her shield, her crimson arrow. And she…

Historia tightened her hold on Eren’s hands, heartened by the virile weight of him. Breathed deep the thick warm scents. She closed her eyes against the sting, swallowing her sorrow, her heart too heavy.

_Come back to me… Please come back to me, Eren…_

Eren sighed her name between kisses and shuddering breaths. A prayer and a promise. Whispering soft words and praise, slim hips cradled and rocking against her. He gripped her thigh and shifted their position, her knee hooked over his elbow. He sank deeper with a groan.

“Look at me,” he managed. The strain in his voice nearly unstitched her, but she opened her eyes. Stared up into his dear, handsome face. Met sea-grey eyes so darkened and delirious with affection, all as she watched him, felt him, moving in time to the shared beat of their pulse and her throat grew tight. Her heart filled to bursting and her vision suddenly blurred.

“Eren,” she moaned. Her voice too wrecked for anything more. Instead, she dug her nails into his skin until he hissed and his thrusts grew needy and desperate. Closer, she needed him closer. “Eren…”

* * *

Historia waited in the shade of the front porch, watching the pair of scouts in their hunter-green cloaks with veiled contempt. They stood out in the sunny paddock, watering their horses, and saddling Eren’s bay. Every few minutes, they would glance to the house in anticipation.

Eren walked out the door, pack slung over his shoulder. Dressed once more in his regiment uniform.

“All set?” Historia asked.

He looked at her. “Yeah.”

Historia nodded, blinking away tears. The scouts started leading the horses over and the queen swallowed down her rising frustration.

She had worked so hard to keep him from thinking about the end of his term. Encouraged him to live a little more in the moment with her and savor understated joys. Giving him a taste of what he fought so hard to protect. Simply _living_.

They had fallen into a sweet routine over the course of his leave. Sharing meals together and getting through the day. And then, at night, they consumed each other with a steady appetite. Made love at dusk and dawn, unfolding themselves to one another until everything was laid bare. Falling deeper.

All over too soon. Much too soon.

“Hey,” Eren said, catching her attention. He could no longer take her into his arms, but he tilted his head, leaned in closer, smelling of shaving soap and cedar. “I know,” he said in the same low tone he used in the warm afterglow. Soft as a caress. “I’ll see this through.”

She looked him in the eye. No. She did not want him go. Historia schooled her features into a mask of platonic friendliness as the scouts came within earshot. She forced a smile.

“Thank you for all your help, Eren,” she said, instead. “It’s always nice to see an old friend.”

“Sir, we’d better get going if we want to reach Trost before dark,” one of scouts said.

“Yeah,” Eren agreed absently, still looking at Historia. He placed his fist over his heart and bowed low. Playing at loyal soldier and nothing more. “Your Majesty.”

It almost hurt more, to not give him the send-off he deserved, and she wished, oh she wished they had been free to love. Honestly. Openly. Eren moved off the porch then, away from her. Historia watched as he secured his bag to the saddle, her eyes sweeping along his broad shoulders, down the sturdy length of him. The proud stance and spacing between his boots. Every movement unhurried yet certain. Eren hauled himself up into the saddle with an easy sort of grace and her throat tightened painfully. He looked at her, one last time, fisting the reins. The leather creaked. Horses snorting and pawing at the gravel.

“Take care,” he said. His eyes gleamed in the afternoon light, contradicting the composure of his tone.

“You too, Eren.”


End file.
